Loki's Kin
by Druall
Summary: Born from a descendant of Loki, a young werewolf must find a way to either harness her inner god of chaos and be thrown into the boiling cauldron of lies or help her race to fight the humans and survive the inevitable war between them. All OC's but references to norse mythology are a-plenty.


AN: I've been writing this story for what feels like forever and i had to get it out. Of course, that means it's finished(in my head at least) so bare with me. This chapter isn't the beginning. In fact, it's one of the last chapters for this story. I found the song "This is not the end" by Fieldwork was very inspiring while writing. Enjoy. I awoke to the rough hands of prison guards yanking on my shirt. They reached for my mask and attempted to pull it off. I brought my hands up to stop them. My piercing eyes watched them suspiciously when they let me. I unlocked the back and pulled it off. Contrary to my slightly toned complexion, the skin on my face hadn't seen the light of day in over four months. The two men stared at me but then spat as they realized who I was. The great Drüall. The great. The descendant of Fenrir. Of Loki himself. Simultaneously, they grabbed my arms and tied them behind my back, putting a thin bag over my head. I blinked, adjusting to the dim lighting quickly. They promptly shoved me through the cell door and outside where more guards awaited our presence. I nearly choked at the forgotten taste of fresh air. I winced as the rain stabbed at my fresh wounds. My arms and legs were given the first drop of water since I was imprisoned. When we passed them, they bare feet clutched at the stone beneath me, trying to not slip on the layers of assassin blood. I swallowed, finally feeling nervous. I had waited several months for today and I didn't dread it until now. My thoughts turned to Níkrad. I hoped he wasn't serious about coming today. He shouted at me everytime I closed my eyes. "You cannot negotiate with brainwashed men! They will take you and they will torture you until you heal! Only to cut you open with more silver!" He had said. We argued for several hours. "I have no plans to be democratic. They want this war, they will have it but they will feel the wrath of a thousand lycanthropes before I allow our race to die!" His eyes begged me silently before he looked away. "You will die trying then." He whispered, looking back at me. "My king has asked me to hunt someone. If I am to be caught, then so be it. I you are caught, then I will kill you myself." I answered objectively. My body betrayed no emotion as I made to leave. My worrying was interrupted when something hard hit my shoulder. Chants rang in my ears, all involving curses with my names in them. However, my human name wasn't. Did they not know who I was? I stumbled as the ground protruded slightly. "Burn in hel!" "The lundraco deserves more than the gallows!" "Death to Drüall!" I tried my best to ignore their insults. My escort continued to walk me forward towards the stage. With every passing step the tension grew tenfold. My hands clenched the manacles with inhuman force. A knot formed in my stomach as I trudged up the stairs. The guards walked around me and stood in the back of the platform. The executioner waited patiently next to the rope, knowing he would get satisfaction no matter how long it took me. The crowd erupted into cheers as he put the noose around my neck. One person in the front had to scream. "How do we know that's Drüall?!" He asked. The people who could hear him yelled in agreement as almost everyone else quieted down in order to hear. The executioner stopped and moved to stand next to me. I squinted at the light as my bag was pulled off. Half of the faces stood wide-eyed whilst the others continued their angry chants, now adding my birth name. I took a second to soak in the view. The courtyard was occupied by men women and children alike. Some wore their hoods on in the rain while most kept theirs off for better sight. Children sat on the shoulders of the parents for a better look.I recognized several faces. The people who did not react violently had fought beside me. They were wolves in men's clothing. Their only expressions were of sadness. Guards stood anxiously at regular intervals. The men on the archer points held their bows at the ready, eyes trained on me. I looked at the eyes behind their Helms. Each of them stared at me with hardened steel. The last, and closest to me, flashed momentarily before I was interrupted. "The accused known widely by humans and beasts as Drüall and Hanna, king George's daughter, has been brought forth for the judgement of the crown. It has been decided that her punishment will be to hang by the neck until dead for the crimes as follows: conspiracy, mass murder, race treason, high treason, petty treason, misprision of treason, sedition, and treachery. If the guilty has anything to say, speak it now." I looked up from the square cutout I was standing on to look at the faces in the crowd. I searched quickly for words in my native tongue. "I am me... As you are we." I spoke slowly, my voice heavy with accent and dried blood. My heart pounded in my skull as the courtyard remained silent. The executioners boots interrupted the silence and walked towards the lever. My breathing hitched in nervousness as his hand reached for it. The ground opened up beneath me as I fell, the rope tight around my neck. AN:How'd you like it? There's more norse mythology and easter eggs where that came from! Questions, comments, concerns, curiosity, or any thoughts in general? Review to relieve that uncontrollable thirst for attention! 


End file.
